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UP TO THE LIGHT, 



WITH OTHER 



RELIGIOUS AND DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 



y 



SARA HENDERSON SMITH. 



ii 




NEW YORK: 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th STREET. 






COPYRIGHT, 1884, BY 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY. 



Edward O. Jenkins' Sons, 

Printers and Stereoiypers, 

20 North William St.. New Yo'rk. 



PREFACE 



Sara Henderson Smith, the author of 
the Poems embraced in the accompanying 
selection, was the daughter of Dr. Thomas 
Henderson, late of the U. S. Army, and the 
wife of General Francis H. Smith, of the 
Virginia Military Institute. Her mother 
was a daughter of the late Commodore 
Thomas Truxtun, U, S. Navy. 

In a private memorandum found among 
her papers, there is the following record : 

OLD AGE IN DEATH. 

BY E. WALLER. 

The seas are quiet, when the winds give o'er, 
So calm are we when passions are no more. 
For then we know how vain it was to boast, 
Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost. 
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes 
Conceal that emptiness which age descries. 

The soul's dark cottage, shattered and decayed, 
Lets in new light, through chinks that time has made. 
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, 

(3) 



PREFACE, 



As they draw near to their eternal home ; 
Leaving the old, both worlds, at once, they view, 
That stand upon the threshold of the new. 

"The first two lines of the second stanza 
were among the last words distinctly ut- 
tered by my grandmother, Sara, widow 
of Alexander Henderson, of Dumfries, 
Prince William County, Virginia. 

" My grandmother was remarkable for in- 
tellectual gifts, which throughout her life 
she continued to cultivate by extensive 
reading, and every means afforded in her 
day. To a poetical temperament, she add- 
ed a love of music, and a voice of great 
power and sweetness. Her four daughters 
were carefully instructed in music — all of 
them good musicians ; two were very dis- 
tinguished ; my father, the only one of her 
sons who inherited this gift. I have heard 
him say when other opportunity was not 
afforded, his mother tuned her own piano. 
A married life, more than ordinarily blessed, 
and continuing nearly half a century, was 
followed by one year of widowhood." 

The " intellectual gifts," as well as the 
name of her grandmother, were the rich 



PREFACE. 



heritage of Sara Henderson Smith, and 
it is believed the accompanying selection 
from her Devotional Poems will fully illus- 
trate and confirm the gift of Poesy. 

This little volume will be followed by an- 
other, containing some of her brightest mis- 
cellaneous pieces, many of which were writ- 
ten in her earlier years. 

Like her grandmother, " her married life 
was more than ordinarily blessed, and con- 
tinuing nearly half a century," closed at the 
Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Va., 
May 1 8, 1884. 

VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE, 

June 9, 1884. 



CONTENTS. 



Up to the Light, .... 

Say the Sweet Words again, 

I AM Wandering— I am Wandering, 

Admonition, 

You have Girded on your Armor, 

We love Him, because He first loved 

He is Calling many round me, 

My Son, give Me thy Heart, 

Song of the Deep Sea, . 

Prayer, .... 

Second Sunday in Advent, 

The Unsealed Fountain, 

First Sunday in Advent, 

Fourth Sunday in Advent, 

What is Life? . 

The River of Life, 

Gideon's Fleece, 



us. 



PAGE 

13 
14 
16 
18 

20 
22 
24 
26 
26 
28 
29 
31 

33 
35 
36 
39 
41 



(7) 



8 



CONTENTS. 



How Far is it to Canaan? . 

I AM NOT Willing yet to Die, 

Evening Meditations, 

The Changeless Monitor, 

Our Faiher in Heaven, 

Hallowed be Thy Name, 

" And when He thought thereon, 

Bartimeus, .... 

"Likewise Joy shall be in Heaven, 

Retrospection, . 

Galilee, .... 

Annie, 

A Christmas-Day Letter, 

The Angel Visitant, 

"In Thy Presence," 

A Fragment, .... 

Third Sunday in Advent, 

''The Fashion of this World 

Away," .... 
"Come unto Me, all ye," 
The Voice of the Grave, 
The Missionary's Death-Bed, 



He wept, 



Passeth 



PAGE 
42 

44 
46 
48 
51 

53 
55 
57 
59 
60 
62 
65 
66 
68 
70 
72 
73 

75 

77 
78 
80 



CONTENTS. 9 



PAGE 



The Soul's Bazaar, 83 

What Thoughts are thine, Fair Boy, . 87 

The Second Temple, 89 

The Spirit's Home, 92 

"Jesus Wept," 94 

In Memory of Cadet John Quarles, . . 96 
"And after the Fire, a Still, Small 

Voice," 98 

Jacob's Dream, 100 

The World was yet Young loi 

Little Henry, 103 

Hollywood 105 

A Letter, . , , , • . • .107 



BE this my token when I am gone ! 
The child, to remember a pleasant word ; 
The servant, a burden laid lightly on ; 
The desolate waif, a feeling stirred 
Kindlier far than when she came 
For the trifle offered in His dear Name. 

Be this my token when I am gone ! 

The hand that could give, but not withhold ; 
Prouder than record on sculptured stone. 

Richer than treasures of burnished gold ; 
The tongue that could bless, but never defame. 
Patient, enduring, for His dear Name. 

Rough though the pathway our footsteps tread, 
Hedged with thorns lest we turn aside — 

He, the Sinless, oft laid His head 
On the cold mountains at eventide. 

The brow that had worn a kingly crown. 

With the night-dews heavy — with grief bowed 
down. 

Be this my token when I am gone ! 

Dimly reflecting His heart of love, 
Tears dried from eyes that had still wept on, 

Dimming with shadows the light above. 
And love, and service, and life complete, 
May the servant rest at the dear Lord's feet. 

S. H. s. 
(II) 



IIP TO THE LIGHT, 

AND OTHER POEMS. 



UP TO THE LIGHT. 

<< T T P to the light," said the blade of grass, 
^ " The clods are heavy, and I must pass 
Patiently— gropingly on my way. 
Till I pierce the darkness and find the day. 
What though an atom in time and space — 
Even an atom may claim its place ; 
And, toiling upward, I fulfil 
All that I know of my Master's will." 

" Up to the light," said the tiny bird. 
As dawn the depths of the forest stirred. 
And a joyful song rang out afar 
Clear and bright as the morning star. 

" What though an atom in time and space — 
Even an atom may claim its place ; 
And singing heavenward, I fulfil 
All that I know of my Master's will." 

" Up to the light," said the struggling soul, 
" The twilight deepens — the shadows roll 
Fitfully, fearfully, over my head. 
And the spirit within me is cold and dead. 

(13) 



14 SAV THE SWEET WORDS AGAIN, 



Every atom in time and space 
Claims for itself its destined place — 
While I, a cumberer, through my days 
Faint in labor, and fail in praise. " 

'Up to the light,' their way must lie — 
They are willing workers — but what am I ? 
Wasting the wealth of priceless hours 
On fleeting triumphs and fading flowers ; 
No more a dreamer in time and space, 
Lord, of Thy goodness, appoint my place. 
That loving, and serving I may fulfil 
All that I know of my Master's will." 

'Up to the light,' through doubts and fears — 
Up through the mists of many tears — 
Up the steep ascent whose summits rise 
Till lost in the blue of the upper skies ; 
There, in the realms of Eternal day. 
Sorrow and sighing shall flee away. 
Rough or lonely the path may be. 
Upward, still upward, it leads to Thee." 



SAY THE SWEET WORDS AGAIN. 

"Wherefore He is able also to save them to the uttermost thai 
come unto God by Him."— Heb. vii, 25. 

O AY the sweet words again — 
*^ Are they for me } 



SAY THE SWEET WORDS AGAIN. 15 



' Save to the uttermost," 

Lord, can it be ! 
I, once the chief of all, 
Slighting Thy mercy's call. 
Fast bound in Satan's thrall, 

Can I be free ? 

Sin, with its iron chain 

Fetters me still ; 
Evil I would not do. 

Conquers my will. 
Oh ! for the liberty 
Wherewith Christ makes us free ; 
Lord, most complete in me. 

Thy work fulfil. 

As some poor castaway, 

Nearing the shore. 
Grasping a friendly hand. 

Fears death no more ; 
So while the waves run high. 
Strong in Thy strength — may I 
On Thy great love rely. 

All doubting o'er. 

Thou hast said, " It is I, 

Be not afraid. 
My perfect work is done. 

Thy ransom paid." 



16 / AM WAhWERING, I AM WANDERING. 



Only for Him who died, 
Jesus, the Crucified, 
Be all my sin and pride 
At His feet laid. 

Loud Hallelujahs ring 

Through the high heaven ; 
Peace, with the starlit morn 

Is to earth given. 
Now, then, my soul, be strong 
Take up the Angel's Song — 
And while it floats along, 
Be thy bonds riven. 

Christinas Eve. 



I AM WANDERING, I AM WANDERING. 

"Jesus said, If thou knewest the gift of God, thou wouldest 
have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water." 
" Whosoever drinketh of this water (of earth) shall thirst agani." 
" But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him, 
shall never thirst." — John iv. lo, 13. 

*' T AM wandering, I am wandering, 
^ In this weary world alone ; 
I have proved all earthly pleasures, — 
I am satisfied in none. 

" Half real — half unreal — 
' A higher life than this. 



/ AM WANDERING, I AM WANDERING. 17 

Floats before my mental vision — 
Can you tell me what it is ? 

" For this my soul is longing, 
Yet I may not bid it stay ; 
Ere I grasp the bright illusion, 
It has fluttered far away ! " 



• It is written " — read the record— 

The characters are plain ; 
' They who drink from earthly fountains, 

Shall surely thirst again." 

' But the cup that I will give thee. 

So free to all — so pure, — 
I have filled with living waters, — 
He who drinks, shall thirst no more." 



" My Saviour, hast Thou offered 
Eternal life to me ? 
Bought by Thy precious bloodshed- 
Thy bitter agony ! 

" Come, then, and take possession 
Of all that is Thy own ; 
For the immortal spirit 
Finds rest in Thee alone." 

2 



18 ADMONITION. 



ADMONITION. 

' What I say unto you, I say unto all, Watch." — Mark xiii. 37. 

ONE, from 5'our ranks, has fallen away, 
Worthily wearing your garb of grey ; 
One vacant seat at your mess-hall board — 
One well-known name from your class roll 

scored — 
One youthful form, in the spring-time's birth, 
Sadly borne to its native earth. 

Summer dies with its laughing bloom — 
Life, in the glad new year shall come. 
Dancing waters lie still in death — 
Life springs up with the south wind's breath, 
But the body and spirit of man, in twain, 
Never on earth shall be one again. 

Gone from our sight, to that far-off bourne, 
Whence the steps of the traveller never return, 
No sound comes back to the waiting ear ; — 
Nought for our lost but the pall — the bier — 
And words falling heavily — fall, they must — 
Ashes to ashes " — " dust to dust." 

Can all of our being be bound within 
This narrow circle of death and sin? 
Can the soul the Glorified came to save, 
Die with the treasure we give the grave ? 



ADMONITION. 19 



Better by far that earthly love 
Never its sheltering tendrils wove. 

Look up — look up— through the darkened night, 
Thanks be to God, He giveth light. 
Look up — look up — to Him who saith 
Fear not — / have the keys of death ! " 
At the shadowy portal angels wait — 
Look to the Life beyond the gate. 



Jesus, at your conscience knocking, 
Whispers, " Frail as he, thou art." 

Satan still, without, is blocking 
Every pathway to your heart. 

Shall your Lord neglected wait. 

Till you pass the shadowy gate ! 

While that heart's warm tears are gushing 
Heed, oh ! heed the warning sound ; 

Lest your footsteps still be rushing 
On uncertain, slippery ground. 

Till you reach the shadowy gate ; — 

Lest ior you, no angels wait. 

He the Life — the Resurrection — 
He who holds your fleeting breath, 

Only asks the soul's affection, — 
Pleads to rescue you from death. 



20 you HAVE GIRDED ON YOUR ARMOR. 



Will you linger — will you wait — 
Till you reach the shadowy gate ? 

' They that seek " Him " early " — " find Him. 

Freshest from the new-born day, 
Flowers of hope and promise bind Him. 

Bearing still His Cross alwaj'", 
Till you leave it at the gate, 
Where with crowns the angels wait. 



YOU HAVE GIRDED ON YOUR ARMOR. 

" Thou therefore be strong." " Endure hardness as a good sol- 
dier of Jesus Christ."— 2 Tim. ii. 1-3. 

YOU have girded on your armor, 
You have rallied side by side ; 
Naught upon your stainless banner, 

Save a cross, all crimson-dyed ; 
Nothing, save the blessed token 
Of a bleeding Saviour's love; 
Once on earth a Man of Sorrows — 
Now a Prince enthroned above. 

May your way be onward, upward. 
Though your feet oft travel-worn ; 

May the wounded, fainting spirit. 
Never whisper of return : 



YOU HAVE GIRDED ON YOUR ARMOR. 21 



Though the soul-betraying tempter 
Bid the Christian warfare cease, 

May you onward press and upward — 
So He gives His people peace. 

There are well-springs in the desert, 

Where the lone and weary rest — 
There's a Friend whose arm is stronger 

Than the foe within your breast : 
Ever near your glorious Leader 

You cannot suffer loss ; 
For earth has no such triumphs, 

As the triumphs of the Cross. 

In the flush of early manhood 

Some may lay their armor down ; 
Some, in the sultry noontide, 

May win the victor's crown : 
Some, toiling on till evening. 

Find rest at close of day ; — 
But from every brow the burden 

Of the strife is wiped away. 

Beyond the purple rim of morning, 
Bathed in floods of living light. 

Gleams "Jerusalem the Golden " 
With its towers and banners bright : 

Then onward still, and upward, 
In the path that Jesus trod, 



JVB LOVE him:' etc. 



Who bore our sins to lead us 
To the City of our God. 

V. M. Institute, May i6ih, 1869. 
Confirmation by Bishop Whittle. Forty-eight cadets confirmed 
and admitted to membership with the Church of Christ on earth, 
" Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift." 



'' IVE LOVE HIM BECAUSE HE FIRST 
LO VED US:'~^ John iv. 19. 

T HEARD a voice — the gentlest tone 

-'- That ever fell on mortal ear ; 

It might have touched a heart of stone, 

Alas ! a harder heart was here. 
It said that " pleasure, fame and power 

In youthful dreams were fair to see "; 
But they are phantoms of an hour — 

I am eternal. Follow Me ! " 

In vain He plead. I see Him now 

So patient with my rash disdain ; 
Turning with careless lip and brow 

From Him, my Lord, oft and again. 
In Satan's iron fetters bound. 

What could disturb my fancied peace ? 
The world is fair," I said, "when found 

No more to charm, Thy words may please." 



" JVB LOVE him;' etc. 



He spoke of wealth. The proud, rich man 

Who laid him down self-satisfied, 
Then started — thus the summons ran : 

"Thou fool — this night!" and heard, and 
died ! 
Of one who sat upon a throne, 

And while the people worshipped, fell, 
Eaten of worms and stricken down. 

Forever with the lost to dwell. 

In vain He plead ! He told of him 

For whom all pleasure's gifts came free ; 
Whose cup was sparkling to the brim, 

Who drank and called it " Vanity ! " 
In vain ! my heart more stubborn grew. 

Rebellion struggled fierce within ; 
From pride of intellect I drew 

Food for my folly and my sin. 

Once more He came. Asked would I learn 

Of all His love had borne for me ; 
Spoke of His wounds, His crown of thorns, 

His soul's dark hour of agony. 
That look of love, — at last it swept 

The barriers of my sin away ; 
And when I thought thereon, I wept. 

And at His feet repentant lay. 

That look of love, for sinners sealed 
In anguish on the blood-stained Cross, 



24 HE IS CALLING MANY ROUND ME. 



My guilt and helplessness revealed ; 

And now I count all gain but loss 
For the dear honor of His name. 

Lord, let it still abide with me, 
Lest I forget in wealth or fame. 

The ransom paid on Calvary. 



HE IS CALLING MANY ROUND ME. 

" Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all 
who truly turn to Him : ' Come unto me, all j^e that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' " — St. Matt, xi, 28. 

HE is calling many round me, 
And they say His voice is sweet, 
That they can not choose but follow, 

And worship at His feet : 
That the hardest heart is melted 

By love so great, so free, 
But to me He has not spoken, — 
No message comes to vie. 

It is a day of mercy, 

Will He not hear my cry } 
He came to ransom sinners. 

And will He pass me by .'' 
No other hand can save me, 

Can take away my sin ; 



HE IS CALLING MANY ROUND ME. 25 



'Tis Thine, oh ! precious Saviour, 
Tis Thine, to wash me clean. 

What if the world be given. 

What were an earthly crown. 
If my soul from life eternal 

To death and hell go down ? 
No, it is all, or nothing ! 

Then let my portion be, 
No lingering and no doubting. 

My Saviour, near to Thee. 

Oh ! Love divine, exceeding ! 

Thy voice is in my heart ; 
' Fear not, for I am with thee. 

Thine is the better part." 
No more can earthly pleasures 

My senses steal away ; 
They fade as fades the darkness 

Before the light of day. 

On earth the Cross is hallowed,— 

In Heaven the crown is won. 
When the pearly gates are opened, 

And salvation's work is done. 
Here, still my footsteps guiding. 

Thy love shall be my stay ; 
There I farewell, night and shadow. 

Welcome, eternal day ! 



SO.VG OF THE DEEP SEA. 



MY SO.V, GIVE ME 7HY HEART. 

< f~^ IVE me th)^ heart," while youth is wreath- 
V-J ing 

Garlands of flowers to twine thy brow — 
" Give me thy heart," while joy is breathing 
A spell of promise around thee now. 

" Giv^e me thy heart " — while every feeling 
Thrills to the spirit's rapturous play — 

" Give me thy heart," ere age is stealing 
Its first, best energies away. 

I ask no crown of jewelled splendor, 
No glittering treasure from the mine ; 

I only ask the heart's surrender. 
Come, lay it at thy Father's shrine. 



SONG OF THE DEEP SE.-1. 

OFT alone, not lonely, 
Must the spirit be; 
Where the ear can hear them, 

Where the eye can see. 
Move the surface waters. 
Fretting, surging on, 



SONG OP THE DEEP SEA. 



While unbroken stillness 
Marks the depths unknown, 

So the soul's rude turmoil 
Is for fellow-man ; 

But its hidden workings 
He may never scan. 

Friends pause at the portal 

Veiled with anxious care ; 
One, our Elder Brother, 

Only enters there ; 
Sees our sore temptation, — 

Hears our pleading call, — 
Pities, ere we speak them. 

For He knows them all. 
Be the inner temple 

Then divinely pure ; 
Only hallowed footsteps 

Tread the sacred floor. 

There we guard our treasures, — 

Tender words of love, 
Free from earth's defilings 

As the stars above. 
There we weep our sorrows. 

While the lip smiles on. 
Glad that to the Master 

Is the servant known ; 



28 PRAYER. 



Patient for the token 
Swept along the sea, 

Fear thou not the trial, 
I have sent it thee." 

Earth must have its guerdon- 
Days must come and go. 

Like the upper waters 
In their ceaseless flow. 

But the deep sea quiet 
Bears within its breast 

Germs of higher teaching, 
Types of perfect rest ; 

Ever as the sea-shell 
Murmurs of the sea, 

Bearing still a message, 
" Peace He giveth thee." 



P R A YE R . 

FATHER ! I would this wayward heart 
Might on Thy promised love repose- 
I would Thy Spirit might impart 
To mine, some balm for human woes. 

The world which I have worshipped long 
Has failed me in the hour of grief — 



THE SECOND SUNDA Y IN AD VENT. 29 



Its fascinations, once so strong, 
Can never more afford relief. 

Thou who hast said Thou ne'er will turn 
Heedlessly away from misery, 

Thou ! who hast promised ne'er to spurn 
The contrite heart that clings to Thee, 

Oh ! send me not unblest away — 
A suppliant at Thy throne I bow. 

On Thee I fix the only ray 
Of hope that lingers round me now. 

Give me a portion of Thy grace — 
Thy Love's rich treasure on me pour ; 

Show me the brightness of Thy face, 
And let me love the world no more. 



THE SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT, 

'' That we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might 
have hope." — Rom. xv. 4. 

^T TE need to wait m patience — 

' * One who is gone before, 
Had a weary life upon this earth. 

But all his sorrows o'er, 
In glory and in majesty. 

He reigneth evermore. 



30 THE SECOND SUNDA Y IN AD VENT. 

We need to wait in patience — 

Affection's broken chain, 
Our restless hearts with quenchless love, 

Would strive to link in vain ; 
The lost one to the yearning breast, 

Returneth not again. 

We need to wait in patience — 

From all defilement free — 
To holy thoughts with purpose strong, 

As a sure refuge flee, 
For as our Master knew no guile, 

Pure should His servants be. 

We need to wait in patience — 
Our treasures are not here — 

The Christian traveller murmurs not, 
Although the way be drear ; 

His guide-book points no resting-place, 
Unless his Lord be near. 

We need to wait in patience — 

Our Father wills it so ; 
Nor idly wait — but day by day, 

With help and comfort go, 
To wayworn, fellow-pilgrims 

In a world of toil and woe. 

And we may wait in comfort — 
For still on angel wing, 



THE UNSEALED FOUNTAIN. 31 



Our shield from soul-destroying ease— 

Our help in suffering — 
His messengers from every foe 

Shall swift deliverance bring. 

In comfort and in hope, 

His patient children wait ; 
Oh ! with what tenderness He looks 

Upon their low estate ; 
And gently leads their wandering feet 

To the Celestial Gate. 



THE UNSEALED FOUNTAIN. 

" In that day there shall be a fountain opened for sin and for 
uncleanness." — Zech. xiii. i. 

'< TJ O every one that thirsteth" 
-'- -■■ Here living waters flow. 
Come to the crystal fountain — 

Come with your sin and woe — 
No price — no ransom bringing— 

Ye heavy-laden come — 
For Christ the Lord is waiting — 

He calls His ransomed home. 

O'er many a snow-capped mountain, 
On many a waving plain — 



THE UNSEALED FOUNTAIN. 



A voice of love is telling 
Of One for sinners slain. 

The red man on his war-path 
No more shall blindly roam ; 

For Christ the Lord is waiting — 
He calls His ransomed home. 

From Afric's burning deserts 

Her dusky sons we meet ; 
Brought out for toil and travail — 

Led on with captive feet ; 
They hear the Gospel message 

Across the wild waves foam ; 
For Christ the Lord is waiting — 

He calls His ransomed home. 

Our fathers, sons, and brothers. 

The subtle tempter's pre)^ 
Here quench the restless fires 

That waste your souls away. 
Your sins, though red like crimson, 

Shall white as snow become ; 
For Christ the Lord is waiting — 

He calls His ransomed home. 

Look on the Cross uplifted ! 

Who would this Love repay ; 
Go, seek the lost— the erring — 

Once you were blind as they ; 



THE FIRST SUNDA Y IN AD VENT. 33 

Go, tell the " old, old story" 

Till countless throngs shall come ; — 
For Christ the Lord is waiting — 

He calls His ransomed home. 



THE FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

The night is far spent ; the day is at hand." — RoM. xiii. 

IVT OW the rosy morn is breaking 
^ ^ O'er the long benighted earth, 
Prophets' stars have held their waking, 

Till the glorious sun beamed forth ; 
Youth and maiden rise to meet Him, 

Hoary head and infant fair. 
With loud hallelujahs greet Him, 

Let hosannas fill the air. 

See ye Him in royal splendor, 

With a lordly, glittering train, 
Bidding kings their pomp surrender. 

Through His peerless, wide domain ? 
No ; He cometh meek and lowly. 

With Salvation's garments clad. 
Bow in reverence. He is holy. 

Praise with joy, He maketh glad. 



34 THE FIRST SUNDA Y IN AD VENT. 



Man's proud heart is His dominion. 

There His sceptre holds its sway, 
Peace and Love, on angel pinion, 

Saviour-King, attend Thy way ; 
Guilt, with doubt and fear oppressing, 

He can break thy captive thrall, 
With unerring wisdom blessing, 

Princely gifts He offers all. 

Souls, redeemed from sin and sorrow, 

Gird the heavenly armor on, 
Victory waits the coming morrow. 

Conflict with the night is gone ; 
Slumber not, the foe is waking — 

Pause not. He is ever near — 
Onward, till the morn is breaking. 

Rest was never promised here. 

Once again thy Lord descending. 

On Mount Olivet shall stand, 
Ransomed hosts are round Him bending. 

O'er Him waits an angel band ; 
Then, throughout the wide creation. 

Let your shout of triumph ring — 
Morning breaks, with adoration, 

Victors ! greet your Saviour-King. 



THE FO UR TH SUNDA V IN AD VENT. 35 

THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

"Rejoice in the Lord alway." "The Lord is at hand."— 
Phil. iv. 

TIT" HO that awaits a father dear, 
^ ^ When he our distant path would cheer. 
But knows that for the honored guest, 
With every charm the home is drest, 
And feels how Hght the labors prove. 
That follow in the steps of love ! 

The room arranged with anxious care— 
The softened light that is not gloom— 

The well-known books— the favorite chair- 
Some tokens of our early home 

Long treasured— now brought out to speak 

Of ties that absence can not break. 

Our task complete— how oft reviewed— 
Still deem we some thing left undone ; 

And strive to catch in thoughtful mood, 
Some fancy of the cherished one ; 

Nor pause, till in his fond embrace. 

The heart has found its resting-place. 

Thou, more than father— more than friend- 
How should our spirits watch for Thee, 

Who, with transcending love, didst bend 
To guard our helpless infancy, 



36 WHAT IS LIFE? 



Our erring, wayward youth — and still 
Our life doth shield from every ill. 

No more, indeed, an infant fair, 
We lay our treasures at Thy feet, — 

No more our blest abode to share, 

With joy Thy hallowed form we greet, 

No more we soothe Thy weariness. 

Nor worship where Thy footsteps press. 

And yet, oh ! Blessed One, Thoa art 

To every true Disciple near; 
Still may each faithful, trusting heart, 

Expectant wait till Thou appear ; 
And feel how light the labors prove. 
That follow in the path of Love. 

In Thee believing, we rejoice — 

For Thee we watch, we strive, w-e pray — 
Through the dim twilight hear Thy voice, 

As Life's dark shadows flee away ; 
Nor ever from our vigils cease. 
Until we rest with Thee in peace. 



I 



WHAT IS LIFE? 

SAW him in the morn of life, 
A noble, generous one — 



WHAT IS LIFE? 37 



Floating his barque on pleasure's sea, 

As honor steered it on — 
The breath of hope had swelled the sails, 

And sunshine o'er it hung— 
Away it sped its dazzling course, 

While carelessly he sung— 

Oh ! life has naught but happiness— 

Whate'er the wise may say- 
Its freshness and its bloom from me 
Can never pass away. 

I saw him then at summer eve, 

He bent his head to hear 
The scarcely uttered words which fell 

Like music on his ear ; 
A lovely girl had murmured them. 

As on his arm she hung. 
And radiant was the lover's face 

As once again he sung — 

Oh ! life has naught, etc., etc. 

I saw them both again, and she 

Was trembling at his side. 
And solemn were the words by which 

He claimed her as his bride. 
A crowd of friends were gathered round, 

But to his ear there sprung 



38 Ji'^A T IS LIFE ? 



A Strain his lips had often breathed 
When joyously he sung — 



Oh I life has naught, etc., etc. 



I saw his happy home — his wife 

Was o'er an infant bent, 
Who, to his matchless smile, a look 

Of answering beauty sent ; 
He gazed upon the scene, as if 

His earthly hopes were flung 
Upon these frail and gentle ones — 

And then once more he sung — 

Oh ! life has naught, etc., etc. 

I saw a mourner stand alone 

Beside a marble tomb ; 
One flower was taken in the bud, 

The other in its bloom — 
And to the cherished spot he brought 

A heart by sorrow wrung. 
But a watch was kept by angels there. 

And thus the spirits sung— 

Oh ! life has many a bitter cup — 
Whate'er the young may say — 

But the glory and the peace of Heaven 
Will never pass away. 



THE RIVER OF LIFE. 39 



THE RIVER OF LIFE. 

1 STOOD beside a noble stream, 
Whose crystal waters roll'd 
Far onward to the distant sea, 

In majesty untold ; 
No poisonous herb or deadly fruit 

Grew on that river's brink, 
But safely in the tall trees' shade 
The traveller paused to drink." 

I saw a man of passions fierce, 

Pass by in bitter mood — 
He bent him o'er the cooling wave, 

His anger was subdued ; 
And he who ne'er had bowed the knee, 

Now pardon sought of Heaven, 
And prayed for blessings on his foes, 

As he would be forgiven. 

And then an aged miser came. 

Dreaming of hoarded gold — 
Spurning the poor whose humble cry 

Their tale of sorrow told. 
He drank ; his rigid hand unclaspt. 

And all his wealth did seem 
Too poor an offering for that love 

Which gave a life for him. 



40 THE RIVER OF LIFE. 



I looked again — a widowed form 
Bowed down with grief drew nigh ; 

The seal of woe was on her brow, 
And tears had dimm'd her eye. 

She took the cup, and hope and joy- 
Now filled her grateful heart. 

And "we will meet again," she said, 
"Where friends no more shall part." 

I could not turn my gaze away, 

And strange it were to tell 
The many wondrous miracles 

Wrought by that river's spell ! 
The young forsook the halls of mirth, 

And with a steadfast eye 
The herald of the Cross went forth 

To suffer and to die. 

At length I heard a voice — I turned — 

An angel form was near — 
I trembled, as in gentle tones 

He said, " Why gaze ye here? 
That river is the Stream of Life, 

On you its power may fall ; 
Go drink of its exhaustless wave 

And freely give to all." 



GIDEON'S FLEECE. 41 



GIDEON'S FLEECE. 

AM I, thy meanest servant, Lord, 
To be my country's stay ? 
To scatter back the Gentile horde 

That rush upon their prey ? 
These things are far too wonderful 

For a weak heart like mine ; 
Oh ! strengthen now my wavering faith 

And bless me with a sign. 
I lay the fleece upon the floor. 

Wilt Thou be ever nigh ? 
Then let it, Lord, be wet with dew. 

And all the earth be dry. 

Once more forgive the daring thought. 

And grant my earnest prayer — 
For what were Israel's armies, Lord, 

And Israel's God not there ? 
Thou who didst guide our fathers through 

The pathless wilderness — 
Still, with their children be — and here 

Thy waiting servant bless. 
Again this night I spread the fleece, 

Wilt Thou be ever nigh ? 
Then let the earth be wet with dew, 

The fleece alone be dry. 



42 HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN f 



Christian ! the lesson is thine own — 

And wouldst thou have a sign ? 
To know -when warring with thy foes. 

If Israel's God be thine ? 
When cloudless skies are o'er thy head, 

Nor warning may'st thou trace — 
Still in thy heart, with dew from Heaven, 

Nourish the plant of grace. 
And when affliction's storm shall lower. 

And life's rude seas run high — 
That heart borne high above the wave 

Shall still in faith be dry. 



HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN? 

T T OW far is it to Canaan ? 

-■- -■■ The way is lone and drear, 

Night's shadows darken o'er my path 

Oh ! that my home were near. 
Throughout life's weary journey 

My guilt has worn me down ; 
Shall I e'er reach the promised land 

Or wear the promised Crown ? 
Look up, thou fainting one, thy Lord 

This message sends to thee," 
I will blot out thy sins and thou 

" Strong in My strength shall be." 



HOW FAR IS IT TO CANAAN? 43 



How far is it to Canaan ? 

I long to be at home, 
Even now the glories of that world 

Over my spirit come. 
I see the Heavenly City, 

Its music fills my ear. 
Impatient, Lord, I wait, until 

Thy messenger appear. 
" Go on, triumphant Christian, yet 

One warning word be given, 
Take care, lest too securely trod, 

The road is lost to Heaven." 

How far is it to Canaan ? 

My treasures all are there. 
Flowers of such loveliness had made 

An earthly house too fair. 
Mine eyes are dimm'd with weeping, 

I'm desolate and lone. 
Yet, Lord ! I bless Thy chastening hand, 

Thou didst but take Thine own. 
* Mourner, thy trials safely past, 

Now hear thy Saviour say, 
I will restore the lost again, 

Where tears are wiped away." 

How far is it to Canaan ? 

Surely my footsteps tread 
Upon the verge of that dark vale 

Before each pilgrim spread. 



44 / AM NOT WILLI XG YET TO DIE. 



Whose hand thus leads me onward, 

With strength no more my own ? 
Father ! 'tis Thine, each pledge redeemed, 

I am not left alone. 
Now, soldier, lay thine armor down, 

Sweetly this life resign ; 
Thy Saviour bore death's sting away. 

And victory is thine." 



/ AAI NOT WILLING YET TO DIE. 

" Thy people shall be made willing in the day of Thy power. 
Psalm ex. 

T AM not willing yet to die, — 

-*- The earth is green, the sky is fair. 

The waters murmur gently by. 

Music and light are everj^where ; 
The evening breeze, rich with the breath 

Of summer roses, fans my brow ; 
Withdraw thine icy hand, oh, Death ! 

Some other time — not now, not now. 

I am not willing yet to die, — 
Autumn has spread such glory round, 

Painted our valley gorgeously. 
And every hill with splendor crowned ; 



/ AM NOT WILLING YET TO DIE. 45 



Thrown o'er each cliff a crimson wreath, 
Reflected in the lake below — 

Withdraw thine icy hand, oh, Death ! 
Some other time — not now, not now. 

I am not willing yet to die, — 

Our fireside is a joyous one. 
And while the wintry storm sweeps by. 

More tender is each loving tone ; 
I cannot leave this glowing hearth. 

To lay me down mid frost and snow. 
Withdraw thine icy hand, oh. Death ! 

Some other time — not now, not now. 

I am not willing yet to die, — 

Oh ! look upon the laughing Spring, 
While her fair sponsor., Hope, stands by, 

And pledges life to every thing ; 
All nature weaves a fragrant wreath 

Of early flowers, to twine her brow — 
Withdraw thine icy hand, oh, Death ! 

Some other time — not now, not now. 

I am not willing yet to die, — 

Alas ! my time would never come. 
Each changing season adds a tie 

To bind me to my earthly home : 
Thou who didst die on Calvary, 

Oh ! make me willing by Thy power ; 
Trusting, but weak, I cling to Thee, 

Thine be the way, Thine be the hour. 



46 EVENING M EDIT A TIONS. 



E VENING M EDIT A TIONS. 
" The joy with which a stranger intermeddleth not." 

T T was a cloudless night in June, 

■*■ The stars to greet the fair young moon, 

Had all like courtiers come ; 
Earth's children to their rest had gone. 
And the night breeze went murmuring on. 

Rich with the wood's perfume. 

I was alone — but Nature there 
Opened her book, and pictures fair, 

To one who loved her gave ; — 
The mountains piled in masses high. 
Threw their bold outline to the sky — 

Their shadow o'er the wave. 

And nearer, gardens blooming round. 
And swelling hills with verdure crowned. 

Were spread before my view ; 
Though dimly seen — yet known so well — 
That day had lent the night a spell, 

To trace each line anew. 

And yet, long ere an hour passed by. 
The landscape faded from my eye. 

And the bright stars alone 
Filled my whole soul, entranced each thought- 
Till Fancy deepening as she wrought. 

Gave form to every one. 



E VENING MED I TA TIONS. 47 



First to my spirit came the loved, 
Year after year from earth removed, 

And still by death endeared ; 
Those to whose early loveliness. 
E'en Memory could not add one grace, 

Who one blest home had shared. 

And friends were there, for whom life wove 
A wreath of beauty and of love, 

Then, ere the flowers could fade, 
On every leaf a seal was set. 
Gone, but not lost " — they blossom yet. 

Undying, undecayed. 

Apostles, martyrs, swelled the throng, 
And ransomed myriads swept along. 

In garments dazzling white ; 
Till the whole Heavens seemed to be 
Filled with a glorious Company 

Of angels robed in light. 

That hour, that scene, have passed away— 
Yet, blest illusion— stay, oh ! stay— 

O'er this dull heart of mine ; 
When Faith is dim, and Hope is weak. 
Then bid thy shining memories speak 

Of Heaven and things divine. 



48 THE CHANGELESS MONITOR. 



THE CHANGELESS MONITOR. 

WHERE art thou going — whence art thou 
come ? 
Born with creation, hast thou a home ? 
The wind breathes a song in its rushing flight ; 
The sun writes a story in burning light ; 
But viewless and noiseless thy car moves on, 
And men call thee ' Time,' till thy course is run. 

Sapping the strongholds of life away ; 
Touching its grandeur with slow decay; 
Leading our joys to glad fruition ; 
Healing our sorrows with gentle mission ; 
Making our rapture and grief thy own ; 
Say, is this all, till thy course is run ? 

Borne by thee to a distant shore 

Where thou, and thy dial, are known no more. 

What is the message that we may trace 

In the mystic characters on its face, 

Every throb of our heart's beating 

Still to its fairy round repeating. 

Youth is the questioner; be thou true ; 
Little has age with thee to do. 
His tottering footsteps soon must wait 
Thy last farewell at eternity's gate." 



THE CHANGELESS MONITOR. 49 



" Mine, has been from distant ages 
All the gathered lore of sages ; 
Mine, are countless hoards of treasure 
Filled up, heaped up — without measure ; 
Mine, the grasp of kingly power ; 
Mine, the victor's proudest hour. 

" Mine, the pride of beauty, leading 
Hearts (like captive princes, bleeding 
At a heathen triumph) knowing 
Naught of care for their undoing ; 
Artist work, and poet's rhymes. 
Wedding bells, and victory chimes. 

" All of earthly riches, glory. 
Learning, fame in song and story ; 
All are given to me, and I 
Write upon them, * Vanity.' 
Gleams at most of fitful light — 
Meteors o'er a troubled night. 

" Yet, momentous gifts bestowing. 
Life or death, my hand is sowing. 
Gifts of moments — gifts of hours — 
Vested with immortal powers — 
Ever bearing on from me. 
Records for eternity. 

" What if the whole world obtaining 
And thy soul is lost, the gaining ? 
4 



50 THE CHANGELESS MONITOR. 



What if registered ' esteeming 
Light the price of thy redeeming ' ? 
Open is thy record yet, 
Read, where I my seal have set. 

" Mark this well ; ' a deathless treasure 
Lost in giddy rounds of pleasure.' 
Here, ' The poisonous goblet tasted, 
Youth, and health, and reason wasted.' 
Here (the darkest path e'er trod), 
' The fool hath said, there is no God.' 

" Here, ' The miser's grip grew tighter.' 
Here, 'The idler's mirth grew lighter.' 
Here, ' The undying soul, believing 
In a great "hereafter," living 
One with passion, toil, and strife. 
Crushing all of nobler life.' 

" Thou art answered. Pleasures tasted,— 
Business thrall, — and moments wasted ;— 

All the good that thou art doing — 
All the evil, thou pursuing — 
In the characters I trace, 
Soon shall meet thee, face to face. 

" Not like these be thy recording; 
Not like theirs, thy last awarding ; 



UR FA THER IN HE A VEN. 51 



Circling years are pausing never- 
Soon we part, and part forever — 
Then may thy rich guerdon be, 
Joyful to remember me." 



OUR FATHER IiV HEAVEN. 

FROM green-clad earth, from sandy shore, 
Where ocean sleeps or tempests roar; 
Where the bright river lifts on high 
Its waves to greet the circling sky. 
Father of Light and Life to Thee, 
One chord through all immensity, 
Thrills with the tones of need and fear — 
Tones quick to reach a father's ear. 

Nor dies the infant's feeble wail 
In plaintive sighs along the gale ; 
Nor falls the penitential prayer 
Unheeded on the passing air ; 
The gasp of want — the bitter cry 
Born of a love that cannot die. 
Are not too poor for Thee to own 
Amid the splendors of Thy throne. 

Who that in childhood oft might speak 
With tearful eye and flushing cheek. 



OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN. 



Some tale of wrong, or doubt, or fear, 
Into the earthly parent's ear, 
(However else the world may prove 
Chary of sympathy and love) 
But knows his heart may safely rest 
Upon a loving father's breast. 

And when to Thee our spirits rise 
Laden with earth's anxieties ; 
When from our side the loved are torn. 
And faith is dim, and hope forlorn ; 
When heavy with the dews of night 
Our drooping wings scarce seek the light 
How sweet to soothe our griefs to rest 
Upon a loving Father's breast. 

Nor only thus : by error driven 
Too oft we wander far from Heaven ; 
Too often dazzled by the ray 
Of prosperous sunshine, miss the way ; 
Temptation's warfare fierce within 
Goading the soul to doubt and sin ; 
Repentant, then, still may we rest 
Upon a loving Father's breast. 

The birds exulting through the air. 
Ring out their praises for His care ; 
The lilies clothed in beauty yield 
Their fragrant incense from the field ; 



« ' HALL O WED BE THY NAME." 53 

But we for whom He sent His Son 
To seek the lost, — to save His own, 
Alone are called our cares to rest 
Upon a loving Father's breast. 

His own — though weak in heart and faith — 
His own in life — His own in death. 
Though here by fires of suffering tried — 
Only as silver purified, 
Faint not — thy Father lives and reigns, 
And every tear that He ordains 
Is but a messenger of love 
To lead you to His rest above. 

Now, then, as children let us come — 
With Thee is peace, and rest, and home ; 
Resisting sin, unvexed by strife, 
Trusting, amid the toils of life ; 
Till Satan conquered, we lay down 
Our earthly cross to wear a crown, 
And all our sorrows find their rest, 
Father, upon Thy loving breast. 



''HALLOWED BE THY NAME." 

GLORIOUS in strength and majesty, 
We hallow Thy great Name ; 



54 ''HALLOWED BE THY NAME:' 



The starlit Heavens — the teeming earth, 
Its wondrous power proclaim. 

Imprinted on the mountain crest, 
The torrent's ceaseless flow ; 

Nor less on every fluttering leaf 
And wayside flower below. 

The child scarce passed from infancy 

Sees in his father's hand 
A power that he would vainly wield, 

Would vainly understand ; 
Yet not for this unfailing trust 

And filial reverence meet; 
But for the tender care that guides 

His feeble, tottering feet. 

And He who leads the lightning flash 

Along its fiery path ; 
Who binds at will the stormy winds, 

The surging waters' wrath. 
Still makes our human griefs His own — 

Our wandering steps can stay ; 
And from the splendors of His throne 

Wipes all our tears away. 

Father ! what oft'ering can we bring 

That is not Thine to claim } 
Oh! for a seraph's raptured strains 

To magnify Thy Name. 



^'AhW WHEN HE THOUGHT THEREON."* 55 



Not where an angel veils his face 

May mortal vision soar ; 
Only with childlike trust and love 

We praise Thee evermore. 

And though our words be few and weak, 
Our hearts oft ill at ease, 

Now idly drifting with the wave- 
Now breasting stormy seas ; 

With Thee is rest— all else may change, 
But Thou art still the same ; 

And with Thy works we magnify 
And hallow Thy great Name. 



''AND WHEN HE THOUGHT THEREON, 
HE WEPT:'-yi.AKKx\v.j2. 

<< A ND when He thought thereon. He wept." 
-^ Alas ! alas ! too late the tears ! 
O memories of the past that kept 
Their sleepless watch through coming years ! 

He sees the fisher's garb he wore, 

His boat rocks idly on the sea ; 
Mending his net upon the shore 

He hears the summons, " Follow Me." 



56 '■'AND WHEN HE THOUGHT THEREON r 

Can he forget the pitying love 
That healed the soul He came to bless, 

The heart all human woe could move 
To ministry of tenderness ? 

The cry— the bitter, anguished cry 
That rose above the stormy wave — 

The Master's whisper, " It is I," 
The Master's hand outstretched to save. 

And was it he, of all that band, 
Who would for his dear Lord have died, 

O coward heart ! O feeble hand ! 
O traitor tongue, his Lord denied. 

His Lord forsaken of His own, 

Led to betrayal with a kiss ; 
Buffeted, mocked, and spit upon, 

Was ever sorrow like to His ? 

One look He gave ! the flood-gates gone, 
Onward the surging billows swept ; 

Grief and remorse must claim their own, 
"And when He thought thereon, He wept. 



Oh ! heart of mine, how oft hast thou 
Pleading for self, thy Lord denied ; 

Canst thou forget the thorn-crowned brow, 
The wounded hands, the bleeding side, 



BARTIMEUS. 57 



The shadows of Gethsemane, 

The agonizing watch He kept 
For thee, O faithless heart, for thee — 

And hast thou " thought thereon and wept " ? 



BARTIMEUS, 
Mark x. 46. 

<< TJ E is coming ! He is coming! I hear along 
^ ^ the street 

The sound of many voices — the tread of many- 
feet! 

Is it the man of Nazareth — the man I heard you 
say. 

That healed the sick, and raised the dead— and 
will He pass this way? 

" Why would ye bid me hold my peace — who else 
my life can save 

From darkness heavier than the night, more 
hopeless than the grave ; 

For you, the blessed sun may shine — for you, the 
earth is fair ; 

But earth and sunshine bring to me the black- 
ness of despair." 



58 BARTIMEUS. 



From the dimmed cav^erns of the brain, a cry has 
come for light ; 

The struggle of a human soul, thirsting for human 
sight ; 

That cry is heard, the sufferer's hope — the suf- 
ferer's only plea — 

" Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy upon me !" 

His steps are stayed — upon the throng a stillness 

falls like death. 
The Son of Man, in Godlike power, has quelled 

the tumult's breath ; 
And words of pity pierce the air — " Arise, and go 

th)^ way." 
" Thy faith hath saved thee," morning breaks and 

night is lost in day. 

He turned and followed Jesus ! so love is bom 
of faith. 

No more a beggar asking alms, along the way- 
side path ; 

The glory of the earth is His — the sunshine and 
the flowers, 

And songs of love, and songs of joy — O, happy, 
happy hours ! 

Blind — blind, as Bartimeus, in prison bonds held 

down, 
"Raking up straws, while overhead, an angel 

bears a crown."* 

♦ Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Progress,"— the man with the muck-rake. 



^^ LIKEWISE JOY SHALL BE IN HEAVEN:' 59 

A human soul from darkness is struggling to be 

free — 
"Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy upon 

me." 



''LIKEWISE JOY SHALL BE IN HE A VEN: 
Luke xv. 3-10. 

" Q AY, shepherd, whither goest thou, 
>^ Scaling with eager feet 
The dark and treacherous mountain-path 

Mid storm, and snow, and sleet ? 
Thine eye would vainly seek to pierce 

The gathering gloom of night ; 
Thy flock is sheltered— rest thee here— 

Our cottage fires burn bright." 

" Delay me not — ninety and nine 

Are safe within the fold, 
Nor tell me that the way is lone, 

And pitiless the cold ; 
For one poor wanderer treads the verge 

Of yonder black abyss, 
And I must seek and save the lost 

From such a death as this." 

" Go, shepherd, on thy Heaven-taught quest 
Of pity and of love. 



60 RETROSPECTION. 

Until the songs of men rejoice 
With angel songs above ; 

Until the erring, storm-wrecked soul 
Once more be homeward bound ; 

Until thy dead shall live again — 
Until thy lost be found." 



Who tends the Master's flock, full well 

The Master's Cross doth know, 
For he must scale the frowning rock, 

Must bridge the depths below ; 
Must homeward lead the wounded soul 

With tender, pitying love. 
So shall the songs of men rejoice 

With angel songs above. 



RE TROSPECTION. 

MANY years have passed away 
Since a well-remembered day 
When beneath a lilac bloom, 
Revelling in rich perfume. 
Following out a childish thought, 
I, the lowly blossoms sought, 
Myrtle — heartsease — violet — 
In the shadowy frame-work set. 



RETROSPECTION. 61 

Still I seem a child again 
Fearing nought of grief or pain. 
Only on my quest intent — 
Only on my treasure bent — 
In a blissful fairy land, 
Reaching out a dimpl'd hand, 
When a rude and startling grasp. 
Strong of will and firm of clasp, 
While the tender flesh was torn, 
Pierced with many a cruel thorn — 
Snatched me from the leafy bower 
Half bereft of life and power, 
Strange the work that love had done — 
Strange the trophy love had won ! 

" Father, was the hand Thy own ? " 
Wept my heart with bitter moan ; 
Still His voice is in my ear — 

" Saw thou not the Serpent near ? " 



Through the mists of after years 
Reproduced from blinding tears, 
With a quick, keen sense of pain 
Came the picture back again. 
Father, is the hand Thy own ? " 
Pleads my heart with bitter moan. 
And the answer meets my ear — 
Saw thou not the Serpent near ? " 



62 GALILEE. 



Children still, through careless hours 
Ever seeking fragrant flowers, 
Wandering with unwary feet. 
Where the bloom and shadow meet, 
Does a "Father's watchful eye 
Rescue thee from danger nigh, 
Pleads thy heart with bitter moan, 
Father, is the hand Thy own ? " 
Let the answer meet thy ear. 
Saw thou not the Serpent near ? " 



GALILEE, 
Matt. iv. 23. 

THE Storied hills of Galilee 
Are bright with blooming flowers, 
And waters on the restless sea 

Flash through the sunlit hours ; 
And Childhood's happy voice is there. 

And Youth in morning's prime. 
And Age that marks with hoary hair 
The dial-plate of Time. 

But Childhood flings its roses by, 

And Youth forgets its song, 
And feeble Age, with eager eye. 

Moves restlessly along ; 



GALILEE. 63 



From hill and plain they throng — they press. 

And on the glittering sands 
Only a youth of lowly dress. 

But noble presence, stands. 

A King — He came unto His own. 

His own received Him not ! 
A King discrowned — without a throne — 

And toil His daily lot : 
And on the sea, and on the shore, 

His Presence stills the air, 
And words man never spake before 

Hold waiting thousands there. 

As shadows tell the waning day, 

Low kneeling at His feet. 
The sore distressed their burdens lay 

And all their woes repeat. 
O Love Divine that came to bear 

Our Cross of shame and pain. 
For even the outcast leper there 

Could never plead in vain. 



Lights stream from palace windows now. 

And odors faint and sweet. 
Where will He cool His fevered brow, 

Where rest His weary feet ? 
A royal Prince — no welcome said 

To Him from princely hall ; 



64 GALILEE. 



He hath not where to lay His head, 
And He is Lord of all. 

Land of the olive and the vine, 

Where is thy grandeur now ? 
Thy children's sin and woe are thine. 

Their curse is on thy brow. 
And sons and daughters, exiled, toil 

Through scorn, and grief, and loss, 
While alien footprints mark the soil 

They shadowed with the Cross. 

O storied hills of Galilee, 

Long desolate and lone, 
The waters of thy restless sea 

For thee make ceaseless moan ; 
And Gentile hordes with ruthless hand 

Thy fairest gifts lay waste, 
And all the glory of thy land 

Sleeps in the buried past. 

Sleep is not death ! Thy King shall come 

In triumph from the skies ; 
Thy vine-clad slopes in beauty bloom, 

Thy palace splendors rise. 
Legions of angels round Him now 

His royal state maintain, 
And every knee to Him shall bow, 

Whose right it is to reign. 



ANNIE. g5 



A N N I E. 

" And they sung as it were a new song."— Rev. xiv. 3. 

" These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. 
These were redeemed from among men, being the first fruits unto 
God and the Lamb." — Rev. xiv. 4. 

O AY, canst thou bear her a message } 
^ Thy spirit is winging its flight 
To a land that she entered before thee, 

All radiant with glory and light ; 
And when at His feet whom thou lovest, 

Thy lips shall breathe forth a new song, 
With the angels adoring around thee, 

Her voice the glad note shall prolong. 

Say, canst thou bear her a message ? 

She was o\ix first-born — our beloved, — 
A few years she lingered among us. 

And then the fair child was removed ; 
So lovely, dost thou not remember 

The wave of her soft, golden hair ? 
So gentle, so pure, so unearthly — 

We know that our darling is there. 

Tell her that earth has no blessing 
Her loss in our hearts to supply, 

That the Grief-opened fount closes never ! 
That Sorrow's dark stream runs not dry ! 
5 



66 A CHRISTMAS-DAY LETTER. 



But the Cross that our Master has hallowed, 
Must still to His servants be dear, 

And the false world no more can allure us 
To dream that our treasures are here. 

Tell her, while memory wakens 

One thought of the past, she is ours — 
She comes v/ith all visions of beauty. 

She has left a new charm for the flowers ; 
The sunset, the starry night's splendor. 

The summer eve's murmuring close, 
And see thou forget not to tell her, 

We love for her sake " the white rose." 

Say, canst thou bear her a message ? 

Thy spirit is winging its flight — 
One word which the earth cannot sully, 

Go sound through the regions of light ; 
'Tis the name of the Lord, our Redeemer, 

That name to her young heart so dear, 
And tell her, her Saviour is precious 

To those she left sorrowing here ! 



A CHRISTMAS-DAY LETTER. 

A H ! my heart is weary ! 
-^^ Let me charm its grief away 
Every pulse vibrating, 
To the Angels' song to-day. 



A CHRISTMAS-DAY LETTER. 67 



Hark the pealing anthem, 
With Time alone to cease, — 

" Hail ! Thou Infant Saviour ! 
Hail ! Thou Prince of Peace ! 

Once, the household idol. 
Her gentle beauty blest, 

Amid the showering roses 
Of the spring-time, found her rest ; 

And yesterday, beside her. 
We laid a darling one ; 

Our two years' pet and plaything — 
A sunbeam, come and gone. 

Ah ! our hearts are weary ! 
Let us charm our grief away ; 

Their voices join the chorus 
Of the Angels' song, to-day ; 

And we, adoring, catch the anthem, 
With Time alone to cease, — 

" Hail ! Thou Infant Saviour ! 
Hail ! Thou Prince of Peace ! " 

Peace ! Alas ! around us 
Everywhere is strife ; 

Brother against brother. 
Hunting life for life. 

Gloom and desolation 
Brood o'er many a hearth, 



68 THE ANGEL VISITANT. 

Ringing once with laughter — 
Wild with childish mirth. 

Yet amid the fires, 
Our Lord still finds His own, 

Looking for their deliverance, 
In every heart a throne ; 

And swelling still the anthem, 
With Time alone to cease, — 

" Hail ! Thou Infant Saviour ! 
Hail ! Thou Prince of Peace ! " 

In the Heavenly City, 
When from golden harp-strings rung, 

"As the voice of many waters," 
The glad "New Song" is sung, 

The redeemed shall wake an anthem, 
No more with Time to cease, — 

" Hail ! Thou risen Saviour ! 
Hail ! Thou Prince of Peace ! " 

December 25, 1864, 



THE ANGEL VISITANT. 

" Are they not all ministering spirits ? " 

'THREAD softly! 

-*- The toil and strife of the day are done- 
Soft falls the glow of the setting sun. 



THE ANGEL VISITANT. 69. 



Fling wide the doors, where the joyous ring 
Of the heart's rich music is echoing. 
Wide — for an Angel guest is come. 
Unbidden, unmark'd to the happy home ; 
Flowers are blooming everywhere, 
Life's purest flowers are blooming there. 

Tread softly ! 
The hours pass on to another rest, 
'Mid the parting glory that fills the west ; 
Heavy and dark are the mists that rise, 
Veiling its light from anxious eyes ; 
They see not the Angel with noiseless wing,- 
They knew not his gentle entering ; 
Shadows are falling everywhere, — 
Life's deepest shadow is falling there. 

Tread softly ! 
The hours pass on to another rest. 
And sunset flushes the glowing west ; 
Silently kneel, where the sufferer lies, 
With a heavenly light in her dreamy eyes. 
Kneel, for the Angel with noiseless wing 
To the rapt spirit is ministering ; 
" Passing away," is on all things fair, — 
Passing forever from earth, is there ! 

Tread softly ! 
The hours pass on to another rest. 
And twilight fades in the darkening west ; 



70 "/^ THY PRESENCE. 



Strength, to the stricken, has come with death- 
Strength, that is born of unbroken faith, — 
And the Angel guest, with noiseless wing. 
O'er the wounded in spirit is hovering. 
Shadows are falling everywhere, — 
Light and shadow are falling there. 

Tread softly ! 

Hush'd and still is the dewy eve, 
Where the beloved to rest they leave. 
What though the desolate heart is worn. 
One, on the Cross, hath its burden borne ; 
And still to their sorrow, with healing wing, 
His angels are ever ministering ; 
Blessings are falling everywhere, — 
A blessing of peace is falling there. 



''IN THY PRESENCE." 

I AM wandering here in darkness, 
I am weary of the night, 
Faith would vainly pierce the distance 

To my Father's home of light. 
Where one glad, glorious morning 

Ushers in Eternal Day, 
And earthly clouds and shadows 
Forever flee away. 



'IN THY presence:' 71 



" I am weary of the conflicts 

That my halting steps pursue, 
Of the foes so lately vanquished 

Ever springing up anew ; 
Of the cumbrous, glittering armor 

At eve laid down in pain. 
And, with the first awaking, 

To be girded on again. 

" I am weary of the weeping, 

Of bereavement's darkened life ; 
Of the want and desolation — 

Of the toil and pain and strife ; 
Of the hollow show and seeming 

Of a world by sin oppressed, 
I am weary — I am weary — 

And I long to be at rest ! " 

" Art thou weary of My service ? 

Is thy love so cold to Me ? 
In thy trials, thy temptations. 

Have I weary been of thee ? 
The path that thou must follow 

I have trod with bleeding feet, 
And if the toil be bitter, 

Will not the rest be sweet ? " 

" Lord, forgive my weak repining ! 
Fellow-travellers in the way 



72 A FRAGMENT. 



Wounded by sin and sorrow, 
Nor Priest nor Levite stay ; 

Teach me to win them homeward, 
The lost — the blind — the lame, 

My feeble work accepted 
In Thy beloved Name. 

Onward ever at Thy bidding, 

Though the path be lone and drear. 
Only let me trace Thy footprints, 

Only feel that Thou art near ; 
Till o'er the waters gleaming 

Falls the light from yonder shore, 
■ In Thy Presence there is fullness 

Of joy forevermore.' " 



A FRAGMENT. 

A GLORY floods Judea, 
As sunlight floods the sea : 
Shepherds, who watch your flocks by night. 

What may this glory be? 
While Eve her many voices hushed 

Drinks in with ravished ear 
The song by angels brought to earth^ 
That earth no more may hear. 



THE THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 73 



That glory from past ages 

By prophet vision seen, 
Though dimly gleaming through the night, 

A star of hope had been — 
That song which kings had waited for 

In echoings sublime, 
Shall still the wondrous story tell 

Down to the verge of time. 



THE THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 

" It is required in stewards that a man be found faithful."— i 
Cor. iv. 2. 

OH ! life is but a pilgrimage, and every traveller 
bears, 
Whate'er his state — where'er his way— the bur- 
den of its cares ; 
For Pleasure's fountains ever gleam where Sor- 
row's shade is thrown, 
And he who fills the sparkling cup shall find them 
both his own. 



Deeply upon the poor man's brow the seal of care 

is set. 
And heavily it presses with the kingly coronet ; 



74 THE THIRD SUNDA Y IN AD VENT. 



Then ye who feed the Saviour's flock, like Him 

each day go forth, 
And minister in mercy to the suffering ones of 

earth. 

Like Him, thou bearest messages of love to every 

heart — 
Like Him, the bread of life thou may'st freely to 

all impart ; 
And if thy work be hidden long, faint not, nor be 

dismayed. 
Thou canst not weep as He hath wept, nor pray 

as He hath prayed. 

Oh ! Holy office ! thus to watch for the undying 
soul — 

To whisper gentle words of peace where passion's 
billows roll, 

To break the spell of careless mirth — the droop- 
ing spirit cheer. 

When sad bereavement clouds the home, that 
else had been too dear. 

And did He not His tender lambs give to thy 

watchful care ? 
For precious in the Shepherd's sight the young 

and feeble are. 
We cannot know how brief a span of life to these 

is given. 
E'en now their infant feet may stand just at the 

gate of Heaven. 



" THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD:' 75 



Then guard them well, for memory brings oft to 

the grateful breast 
The last hours of a little child thus early laid to 

rest; 
Her pastor's name was on her lips, and to his 

hand she gave 
A token of revering love that dies not in the 

grave. 

Oh ! be thou faithful to thy trust, a rich reward 

is thine — 
Forever and forever, as the glorious stars to 

shine — 
And the chief Shepherd in thy crown no brighter 

gems may weave. 
Than they who by thy teachings here like little 

children live. 



" THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD PASSETH 
A WA F." 

"D EAUTY, with her handmaids fair, 
^ Hover'd o'er the infant earth. 
Showering fragrance through the air. 

Waking loveliness to birth. 
With her wand she tinged the flowers, 

Curtained Heaven's high arch with blue, 



76 " THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD:' 



Pencilled clouds for evening hours, 
Gave the morn its rosy hue ; 

Robed in mist the lofty mountain, 

Softly veiled the dewy plain ; 
Decked with light the crystal fountain. 

Lost in forest depths again ; 
On the lake's calm bosom mirrored. 

Starry jewels of the night ; 
Through all nature still untired, 

Blending color, shade, and light. 

Now Creation's full harp swelling, 

To each note she lent its tone ; 
One task more, all else excelling. 

Ere her work of love is done ; 
Shadowy land and sparkling water. 

This last gift is not for thee, 
But to throw o'er Eden's daughter 

Perfect grace and symmetry. 
One there followed in her train. 

With an aspect coldly stern ; 
Beauty saw and wept in vain. 

Wheresoe'er her footsteps turn. 
Still that stranger form is near — 

"And who art thou } " she said, 
" And wherefore art thou here } " 

Not a word spoke the stranger. 
But in his grasp glittered 



COME UNTO ME, ALL YE." 77 



A seal, and the motto was, 

" Passing away." 
And all that was lovely 

These sad words embittered ; 
And deeply he stamped 

Where the loveliest lay. 

Then Beauty, with sorrow 

And tenderness riven, 
Her fair maidens gathered. 

And homeward took flight ; 
Children of earth. 

Ye may meet her in Heaven ; 
At the fount of Perfection 

She feareth no blight. 



"COME [/AT TO MB, ALL K5"."— Matt. xi. 28. 

/^~^OME where the Sun of Righteousness is 
^^-^ throwing 

A glow of radiance o'er life's clouded way ; 
Come where that Sun its guiding light bestowing 

Points on to brighter realms of endless day. 

Come, all that labor and are heavy laden, 
I will refresh you with my Spirit's power ; 

The promised bloom of life is ever fading. 
But I will lead where joys eternal flower. 



78 THE VOICE OF THE GRA VE. 



A bruised reed, a broken, contrite spirit 

May rest its cares and sufferings safely here ; 

On earth, a Saviour's griefs though it inherit, 
In Heaven is wept away each bitter tear. 

Come Jtow — nor slight the gracious invitation 
Which says to every weary traveller. Come, 

Here is for all a balm of Consolation — 
And I will bid each wanderer welcome home. 



THE VOICE OF THE GRAVE, 

WHEN will ye wake again. 
Oh ! lovely slumberers in the silent 
tomb ? 
Can ye not burst the chain 
That holds ye fettered in Corruption's gloom ? 
Can ye not rise to life and light once more, 
And eyes now dimmed with grief to joy restore ? 

Spring flowers are wafting on 
The first soft perfume of the early year. 

And many a warbling tone 
By the small bird, is waked in forest drear ; 
Seejj/^ the woods with fragrant blossoms crowned ? 
Hear^<? the harmony that breathes around ? 



THE VOICE OF THE GRAVE. 79 



When will ye wake again ? 
Voice of the sepulchre deep-toned and low, 

Long have we watched in vain ! 
Speak ! to our hearts thy hidden mysteries show 
Tell us, — we laid the pale fair sleepers here : 
We call them now — ^when will the loved appear ? 

Call back the tint of yonder fading rose — 
Call up the dew at summer evening shed — 

Call back the light yon darting meteor throws— 
Then call ye back the dead. 

Call back the wave on yonder ocean's breast — 
Call up the moonbeams from their glassy bed. 

As on the rippling lake they gently rest — 
Then call ye back the dead. 

Call back the mighty winds that sweep along — 
Call back the fading cloud, at sunset spread — 

Call back the thunder's voice, fearful and strong — 
Then call ye back the dead. 

Yet, they shall waken from their dreamless sleep — 
Hearest thou the Archangel's pealing trumpet 
sound ? 
" Earth, now give up thy dead " — " Oh ! soundless 
deep. 
Give back the forms in death's cold fetters 
bound ; 



80 THE MISSIONARY'S DEATH-BED. 



Awake ! Awake ! " Lone slumberers in the 

tomb, 
Thy chain is broke — rouse from Corruption's 

gloom. 



THE MISSIONARY'S DEATH-BED. 

IT was not in her own bright home. 
Where clustering vines and bowers. 
Scattered rich fragrance with the bloom 

Of summer's bending flowers ; 
Or where the loved were met in prayer 

At evening, side by side ; 
Her childhood's blessed home was there. 
But 'twas not there she died. 

It was not on her mother's breast 

She laid her wearied head ; 
But strange and swarthy beings pressed 

Around the sufferer's bed. 
And there fell many a bitter tear 

And many a soothing tone. 
Although no kindred voice was near 

To cheer the dying one. 

Her cheek was flushed with fever's heat, 
Its light was in her eye. 



THE MISSIONARY'S DEATH-BED. 81 



As memory many a picture drew 
From thoughts that wandered by ; 

And from her parted lips some words 
In murmured accents spoke — 

A tone from feeling's quivering chord, 
Just thrilling as they broke. 



Mother, it is your child, give me your hand — 

And my sweet sister, too — a lovely band 

Of gentle spirits gathered round me now 

To wipe the death-chill from my aching brow. 

It is long since I have seen you— and I feared 

Ye would not come in time — ^but I was heard. 

Even in that half-breathed prayer — oh ! mother, 

raise 
For all His mercies one glad song of praise. 

It breathes upon my heart of feelings won 
From dark oblivion's shadows — every tone 
Tells of some early pleasure — now my ear 
Drinks in the music I have loved to hear. 
In my own native land— the hum of bees — 
The song of warbling birds swells on the breeze — 
The laughing voice of childhood as we played 
In careless mirth, under the tall trees' shade. 

Was it a dream ? Is this my happy home } 
Was it my mother's voice, amid death's gloom 
6 



THE MISSIONARY'S DEATH-BED. 



Speaking of peace ? Alas ! why dream I still ? 

Oh ! Father, bend Thy servant to Thy will. 

My spirit is exhausted — and the light 

Of earthly ties receding from my sight. 

Lift my dimm'd gaze to Thee, Thou blessed One, 

'Mid the unfading splendors of Thy throne. 

Thy love's refreshing moisture on my head 

Has fallen like dew at summer evening shed — 

And even while in the agony of death 

Thy Spirit will be with me ; now my breath 

Is quick and short ; my feeble pulse just gone — 

But Thou art here ; I am not left alone. 

Come, quickly come — lend me Thy wings of love — 

Oh ! for the soaring pinions of the dove. 

That I might flee av/ay and be at rest 

With Thee, my God, my Father, first and blest ! 

I see Thee now — the sting of death is past — 

Oh ! precious Saviour ! home — at last — at last ! 

Far in a distant Southern land 

Her resting-place they made — 
By India's spicy breezes fann'd. 

Beneath the palm-tree's shade — 
And o'er her grave one sorrowing heart 

Wept desolate and lone — 
Oh, Death ! 'tis ever thine to part 

Those Love on earth made one. 



THE SOUL'S BAZAAR. 83 



THE SOUL'S BAZAAR. 

" Remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst THY good 
things."— Luke xvi. 25. 

WHAT an assemblage ! what a vast crowd ! 
Some pressing eagerly, clamorous, and 
loud, 
Others pass onward with purposes high, 
A " will " in the heart, and resolve in the eye ; 
The lover of gold, and the lover of pleasure, — 
The beauty — the priest— each to barter for treas- 
ure — 
And each for himself — for the bond that is given 
Can only be cancelled in Hell or in Heaven. 

Here is wealth for the miser, stocks, houses, and 

lands — 
He may pave from his coffers the ground where 

he stands ; 
But the generous current of life must run dry ; 
It must dwindle each day till it fade from the eye ; 
It must flow on through sands, where the sun's 

scorching heat 
On the head of the traveller unsheltered shall beat. 
Leaving far in the distance the freshening shade, 
And the song of the bird in the green forest glade. 
With a grip for the widow — a deaf ear to the cry 
Of the poor and the fatherless ! Say, who will buy ? 



84 THE sours BAZAAR. 



For your pledge you may take — but the bond 

that is given 
Can only be cancelled in Hell or in Heaven. 

Here is power for the statesman. But up the 

steep height 
Toiling onward by day, toiling onward by night, 
He must not grow dizzy nor falter, for " truth " — 
He must fling from his path the best friend of his 

youth — 
He must talk of " the people," and trade with 

their blood — 
His country, himself ! and his heaven, bestud 
With the stars of his greatness ! while fished 

from the mire 
The " law of his conscience " grows " higher " and 

" higher." 
No arousing for him till he wake with the cry, 
" The forever lost birthright ! " Say, who will buy } 
For your pledge you may take, but the bond 

that is given 
Can only be cancelled in Hell or in Heaven. 

Here is wine for the Bacchanal, drink in the bowl. 
To gladden the heart, and to madden the soul ! 
Fill the cup with the vine leaves so gracefully 

crowned — 
Hide the serpent within — let the guests gathei 

round — 



THE sours BAZAAR. 85 



While the senses are steeped, as, now distant, 

now clear, 
An exquisite melody thrills on the ear. 
Not yet the debauch ! From the young and the 

gay, 
Come flashes of wit, and the eloquent play 
Of feeling and sentiment. Can you withstand 
The rapture dealt out with so lavish a hand } 
It is bliss for the night — who takes thought for 

the morrow } 
Who dreams of repentance — or tampers with 

sorrow } 
But the leaf-hidden adder has poisoned the life— 
On, on, to the drunkard — the heart-broken wife — 
The children, so wronged — and each gift, one by 

one, 
All pride and all honor — all intellect, gone. 
Who bids now for pleasure ? Quick, quick, stocks 

run high. 
And sales, too, are brisk. Who will buy — who 

will buy } 
For your pledge you may take, but the bond 

that is given 
Can only be cancelled in Hell or in Heaven. 

Here are goods for all time. The " physician " 

may see 
Only Nature's great laws in the veiled Deity ; 
Secure in the trust of an infidel faith. 



86 THE sours BAZAAR. 



Content to walk blindfold, while grappling with 

death. 
The " lawyer's " frail justice may trample on 

" right "— 
The coil of the fee bind his conscience at sight. 
The " priest " in delusion may leave far aside 
The penitent path for the trappings of pride, 
And count it all holy — although he has sold 
"The Book" for man's wisdom — for tinsel, the 

gold. 
The " beauty " may find in the wrongs she would 

mete. 
Her own lawful tribute just laid at her feet ; 
And thoughtless " self-will " the boon it may 

crave, 
Undeterr'd from its mark by the opening grave. 
Each must choose for himself, but the bond 

that is given 
Can only be cancelled in Hell or in Heaven. 

Here ! a " pearl of great price." It is yours on 

demand. 
Would you have the clear head, and the liberal 

hand. 
The heart that beyond its own selfish concerns 
To the need of another untiringly turns, 
Integrity, uprightness, honor, and truth, 
The crown of old age, and the glory of youth ; 
No truckling for station, no penalty paid 



WHAT THOUGHTS ARE THINE, FAIR BOY? 87 



For weak self-indulgence in pitiful trade. 

With the rich, who so rich !— with the great, who 

so high ! 
Who so honored to live — so lamented to die 
As the man with this "pearl"? And as years 

still increase 
No dreaded " hereafter" o'ershadows his peace ; 
Pass on — ^but in shipwreck, when breakers run 

high, 
you may dream of the past ! Who will buy— who 
will buy ? 
The investment is safe, for the bond that is 

given. 
Accepted on earth, will be cancelled in Heaven. 



WHAT THOUGHTS ARE THINE, FAIR 
BOY? 

[My little brother, while under the influence of high fever, said 
to me: " Sister, two of thera were dressed in white, and oh ! they 
were so pretty!"] 

WHAT thoughts are thine, fair boy, 
In that dreamy, restless sleep ? 
The visionings before thee now 

May wear a meaning deep. 
Thy murmurs are of lovely things — 
Of beings robed in white ; 



WHAT THOUGHTS ARE THINE, FAIR BOY f 



Say, has thy rest been visited 
By angel forms of light ? 

The beautiful in spirit 

Have met thy slumbering gaze 
Perchance they gather round thy couch, 

The sinking one to raise ; 
Perchance they bear a zephyr's breath 

To fan thy flushing cheek, 
Or o'er thy fainting heart a tone 

Of cheery hope they speak. 

Thou hast of earthly beauty 

In its highest, proudest mould ; 
For intellect's rich treasury 

Is on thy forehead told. 
And there is language in thine eye, 

With genius deeply fraught. 
As kindling high with feeling's warmth. 

Or drooped in pensive thought. 

A bud of fairest promise 

Thou hast ever been, sweet one. 
But over the expanding bloom 

A shadowing has gone. 
The cloud may pass and thou fulfil 

Our dearest hopes on earth, 
Or else, removed to brighter climes, 

The bud will blossom forth. 



THE SECOND TEMPLE. 



THE SECOND TEMPLE. 

*' But many of the priests and Levites and chief of the fathers, 
who were ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the 
foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, wept with a 
loud voice ; and many shouted aloud for joy ": 

" So that the people could not discern the noise of the shout of 
joy from the noise of the weeping of the people: for the people 
shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar off." — 
Ezra iii. 12, 13. 

A SOUND is heard on Judah's holy hill, 
^~^ Like rushing water, powerful and strong ; 
Loud acclamations all the hushed air fill, 

And proudly swells on high the choral song. 
Hark ! hark ! the pealing bursts of triumph rise 
Through the wide heavens, piercing the vaulted 

skies. ' 



The harp of Israel long in silence slept, 

For stilled and powerless was the captive's 
hand — 

And her fair daughters, once her pride, now wept 
Their sorrowing bondage in a foreign land. 

Her sons — her warrior sons — the mighty free, 

Did they, too, languish in captivity ? 

Was all the spirit of their fathers dead. 
That arm to arm defied the giant's power ? 

Had all remembrance from their bosoms fled, 
That they recalled not victory's glorious hour ? 



90 THE SECOND TEMPLE. 



And, spurning chains that bound them to the 

dust, 
Rose not once more a few to quell a host ? 

Alas ! one arm that went before that band 
To combat and to conquer, was not there ; 

The sword of fire, grasped by no mortal hand. 
That bore along its path death and despair ; 

The hovering cloud — the light that cheered them 
on. 

Marking their doubtful way — were all withdrawn. 

Daughters of Judah ! bend your graceful heads, 
And weep in anguish o'er your country's lot ; 

Warriors ! the light departed glory sheds. 
Your fame — your greatness — all avail you not. 

Bow, haughty ones ; in dust and ashes mourn. 

Call on your God — haply He may return. 

That cry was heard : freed from the captive's 
yoke, 

Once more her children stand on Zion's mount ; 
Then from their hearts a gush of feeling broke, 

Like waters bursting from a long-sealed fount. 
On the old hallowed spot once more the cry 
Of praise, triumphant praise, ascends on high. 

Is there no tone but triumph's swelling there, 
No sound of lamentation borne along ? 



THE SECOND TEMPLE. 91 



No mourner's wailing sweeping through the air, 

With the wild echo of exulting song ? 
Whence come these notes of woe? Mourner, 

away! 
Discordant grief is not for this proud day. 

Is it some youthful spirit weeping here — 
The first crushed hope of life's dark pilgrim- 
age? 
Oh, no ! more touching still ; the sorrowing tear 

Is trickling down the furrowed cheek of age. 
Fathers in Israel ! men with hoary hair. 
What touch thus rudely wakes your heart's 
despair ? 

Alas ! it thrills on memory's aching chord, 
And calling forth once more a deathless tone. 

That time had lulled, grief's swelling tide is 
poured 
Forth in one deep lament. Old men, weep on — 

Weep o'er the record stamped on each green sod, 

Of rebel man, and an avenging God. 

In one dark mass of ruin all was laid : 
The cherubim whose shadowing wings were 
bent 
Over the mercy-seat — ^the long arcade — 
The high, majestic porch where thousands 
went 



93 THE SPIRITS HOME. 



To bow in solemn worship at the throne — 
The chosen shrine of Israel's Holy One. 

Ye saw the former temple in its pride 
Lit with a blaze of gems and fretted gold, 

And heard ye not the unsanctified deride 
The Lord of Hosts in His high fane of old ? 

Did ye not see destruction's fearful gust 

Sweep o'er the walls and lay them in the dust ? 

Yet from this wreck of grandeur there shall rise 
Another temple in its towering pride. 

But can the light come back to aged eyes. 
Or vigor to the heart when youth has died } 

Oh, no ! that brilliant lamp, once quenched and 
gone, 

Relights no more. Old men, weep on — ^weep on ! 



THE SPIRITS HOME. 

SPIRIT ! where is thy resting-place 
On the gay and laughing earth ? 
Where warbling birds sing merrily 

And flowers blossom forth ? 
Or where the young and thoughtless meet. 

In pleasure's glittering hall — 
With smiles and gems and roses wreathed 
Decked for the festival ? 



THE SPIRITS HOME. 93 



Oh ! no — oh ! no. The sunlit earth 

In loveliness shall glow — 
But 'tis a changeful light, for clouds 

Many dark shadows throw, — 
And hopes that spring to cheer the heart 

Are blighted in their birth. 
And birds and flowers must pass away — 

My home is not of earth. 

Is it upon the Ocean's breast — 

Where tall ships wing their way 
And proudly ride the crested waves 

Amid the dashing spray ? 
Where the wearied sun goes down to rest 

In one broad blaze of light, 
And the bosom of the glassy sea 

Reflects the starry night ? 

Oh ! no — oh ! no. The sailor dares 

Old ocean fearlessly — 
But many a dauntless heart now sleeps 

Beneath the dark blue sea ; 
And gallant ships have gone to wreck 

On foaming billows toss'd, 
Where the tempest's wing alone might bear 

The death-cry of the lost. 

But would ye know my blessed home- 
Go with the eye of faith, 



94 ''yESus wept:' 



Where storms and tempests never come 

To tell of wreck and death ; 
Where withered hopes no more shall rise 

To haunt the troubled breast, 
And tears are wiped from weeping eyes, 

And the weary are at rest. 



"JESUS wept:' 

HE wept ! Beside a lowly grave, 
The Lord of Life, the sinless, wept 
Softly along the distant hills. 

The shadowy hues of evening slept ; 
And on the quiet air arose 

A tone of heavenly pity, swept 
O'er angel harps from age to age. 
For mortal suffering — " Jesus wept ! " 

He wept — nor turned from Mary's tears, 

While kneeling on the hallowed sod. 
Her trembling faith but half discerned, 

In human form, the Son of God. 
Nor will He scorn a suppliant now — 

For us. Love's ceaseless watch is kept ; 
Then lay thy burden at His feet — 

For mortal suffering, " Jesus wept ! " 



'^yESUS WEPT.'' 95 

I would we were at rest, dear Lord ! 

I would this night of grief were gone ! 
Our spirits toiling heavily, 

Watch sadly for the coming dawn ; 
A night, that with its solemn hush, 

Brings sterner duties than the day ; 
Night, with no sleep for weary eyes, 

When will its shadows flee away ! 

Sharply across the oppressive gloom, 

The ring of battle strikes the ear : 
Lord, who will stay the mourner's heart ? 

Lord, who will dry the orphan's tear ? 
On every surging billow tossed, 

We cry from the relentless wave ; 
'Tis Thine to bend the tempest's wrath, 

'Tis Thine to comfort ! Thine to save ! " 



A still, small voice has pierc'd the storm. 

It whispers to my heart of peace : 
*' Arise, and put thy sins away. 

Nor let thy toil, thy watchings cease. 
Loved with an everlasting love, 

I will thy fainting heart renew ; 
Look from thyself— vj'ith. q.vq,yy hour, 

There is a work for thee to do. 

" Go, tell in camp, on battlefield, 
Of Jesus, who for sinners died ; 



96 IN MEMORY OF CADET JOHN QUARLES. 



Go, bid the penitent behold 

My wounded hands, my bleeding side. 
Lone, sick or weary, prison-bound, 

At home, abroad. My people pine ; 
Tell them their sorrows are My own — 

Was ever human love like Mine? 

' Above the cloud that dims thine eyes, 

My hand in all thy chastenings see ; 
From Me shall thy deliverance come. 

A captive now — ^thou shalt be free. 
O'er every trial, every tear. 

My love its ceaseless watch hath kept ; 
Then bow with Mary at My feet, 

For her, for thee, thy Lord hath wept ! ' 

Fast Day, April 8, 1864. 



IN MEMORY OF CADET JOHN QUA RLE S_ 
VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE. 

SHADE from the dawn the falling tear, 
Shut out the glad, rejoicing spring; 
What need of earthly sunshine here — 

The light of Heaven is entering : 
Angels are come on noiseless wing, 
The sufferer's fainting heart to cheer ; 



IN MEMORY OF CADET JOHN QUARLES. 97 



And Heaven's own light is entering — 
What need of earthly sunshine here. 

Oh ! glory hidden from our eyes 

Veiled by this frail mortality ! 
Oh ! cloudless sun ! for us to rise 

Never, till death shall set us free ! 
We wait in awe — in love we watch 

The ransomed spirit's flickering rays ; 
And still the ear is strained to catch 

Prayer, soon to be exchanged for praise. 

Wash me, my Saviour, make me clean. 

Oh ! cleanse my soul from every stain, 
While on Thy loving arm I lean. 

Again — oh ! wash me yet again. 

Wash me, my Saviour— at Thy feet 

I lay the burden of my sin. 
Wash me, my Saviour — oh ! complete 

Thy work — my Saviour, wash me clean ! 

Not me alone — for all I pray ; 

All ! all ! — my Saviour, wash them all ! " 
And, ere the accents died away. 

The words were faltered forth again, 

Till, with the feeble, fluttering breath. 
The youthful spirit passed away. 
7 



' AND AFTER THE FJRE:* 



Oh ! death in life — oh ! Hf e in death ! 
Night lost in Heaven's eternal day. 



He sleeps ! young soldier of the Cross ; 

The fight is o'er — the victory won ! 
And, counting earthly treasure dross, 

Say, who will gird thy armor on ? 
For life is real — death is sure, 
And thou hast learned the triumph strain, 
** Worthy the Lamb forevermore, 

Whose blood hath washed and made us 
clean." 
Tuesday, March 17, 1868. 



*'AND AFTER THE FIRE, A STILL SMALL 
rO/C:.?."-! Kings xlx. 13. 

A SOUND of rushing wind has come 
-^^ Fearfully from afar. 
Dark omen of the tempest's gloom, 

Of nature's dreaded war. 
And low before the mighty blast 

Tall trees like reeds are bent ; 
Yet its terrific splendor passed — 

Nor was the mandate sent. 



''AND AFTER THE FIRE:' 99 

But hark ! o'er all the trembling land 

Another sound is gone ; 
Earth, swayed by some resistless hand, 

Is shaken on her throne ; 
And rocks that mocked the tempest's power 

Are hurling through the air ; 
Yet passed the terror of that hour— 

Nor was the mandate there. 

Once more, though still convulsed with fright; 

Nor yet the world is free ; 
For onward comes a blaze of light 

In grand sublimity. 
And all the storm the shock may spare 

Is melted into flame. 
But through the heated, melted air. 

Nor yet the mandate came. 

Now all is hushed— the storm, the fire, 

The earthquake— all are past. 
Nor mingled with one trace of ire 

Came that decree at last. 
But borne along the silent air 

There breathes " a still small " tone— 
There speaks the mighty One, and there 

He makes His mandate known. 



100 JACOB'S DREAM. 



JACOB'S DREAM. 

THE sunset's light had left the sky, 
The stars came glittering forth. 
And evening in her quiet grace 

Fell gently o'er the earth. 
He does not raise his eyes to meet 

Night in her glorious dress, 
For other, sadder thoughts than these 
On his worn spirit press. 

They are of home — a mother's love, 

A father's helpless age ; 
Himself an exile — never more 

To bless their pilgrimage. 
'Twas this that quelled the heart of youth. 

For this the proud boy wept ; 
Till wearied, on the cold, damp earth 

He laid him down and slept. 

Oh ! hallowed was that lowly couch — 
No monarch's gorgeous bed 

Had ever thrown so rich a light 
Around a sleeper's head. 

For Heaven to his bewildered view- 
Its glory now displays. 

And angels pass in bright array 
Before the dreamer's gaze. 



" THE WORLD WAS YET YOUNG:' IQl 

A voice is in his ears : it tells 

His fainting heart of peace. 
Fear not ! I am thy Father's God ; 

Nor shall My mercies cease. 
I will be with thee where thou art — 

On mountain-top or plain, 
And bring thee to thy native land 

In might and power again. 

He rose, and with the morning light 

Pursued his lonely way, 
But not in darkness nor in dread 

Again his pathway lay ; 
The cloud had passed from off his soul, 

Year after year swept on. 
And found him in a hoary age 

God's blest — His chosen one. 



" THE WORLD WAS YET YOUNG:* 

nPHE world was yet young— but its glory was 
-*- past. 

The foul breath of sin had laid loveliness waste ; 
The world was yet young — but how changed since 

its birth, 
For corruption and violence filled the whole earth. 



102 " THE WORLD WAS YET YOUNG: 



And its daughters in beauty, its sons in their 

might, 
Turned in scorn from the hand that would lead 

them aright, 
Till the windows of Heaven were opened, and 

poured 
From the fount of His vengeance the wrath of 

the Lord. 

Oh ! vain was the cry that went up in that hour. 
From manhood struck down in the pride of his 

power ; 
While the maiden's bright tress swept o'er the 

dark wave, 
And the infant's low wail reached no ear that 

could save. 

Is mercy forgotten ? Oh ! God, from the land 
Wilt Thou cut off forever the work of Thy hand ? 
Still, still leave a remnant, Thy name to declare. 
To adore Thee in praise, and to worship in 
prayer. 

And, lo! a frail barque on the water's broad 
breast 

Is launched 'mid the billows, in safety to rest ; 

Till He who hath loosed it the deep shall en- 
chain. 

And the myrtle and olive trees blossom again. 



LITTLE HENRY. 103 



Now earth, with Thy children to grandeur re- 
stored, 

Send up one glad shout to Thy covenant, Lord ; 

And thus through all time shall His Church ride 
the wave. 

For He who hath pledged it is mighty to save. 



LITTLE HENRY. 

<* r^ OOD-NIGHT— good-night, dear mother 
^^ For I am sleepy now." 
His mother took his little hand. 

And from his infant brow 
She turned aside the silken curls. 
Then solemnly said : 
" Henry — you have not said your prayers. 
And can you go to bed ?" 

" No, dearest mother, no — 

Indeed, I did forget — 
But I will pray with all my heart. 

And God will love me yet." 
Then as he lisped his evening prayer 

Upon his mother's knee, 
He kissed her cheek and whispered low, 

" God will take care of me." 



104 LITTLE HENRY. 



When little Henry laid 

His weary head to rest, 
He said that with the rising sun 

He would be up and dressed — 
And running in the fresh green grass, 

Till near his favorite tree, 
He'd stop to hear the little birds 

That sung so merrily. 

Before the morning came 

A flush was on his cheek ; 
He could not raise his heavy eye, 

But once he tried to speak. 
Mother, I love to say my prayers," 

Were all the words he said. 
And ere another sun was set 

The lovely boy was dead. 

O'er his early grave 

His sorrowing parents wept ; 
But they were not bitter tears, for there 

His body only slept. 
His happy spirit was in heaven. 

And would you go there too ? 
Morning and evening pray to God, 

And He'll take care of you. 



HOLLYWOOD. IQS 



HOLLYWOOD. 

"As it was at the creation— as it is now, and as it shall be at the 
end of the world." 

O RIGHT was the morn — the sunshine fell 
^ In glory o'er the land ; 
' And nature, bursting into life, 

Struck with a trembling hand 
A chord of praise from the dark leaves 

By gentle breezes stirred, 
From the soft murmur of the brook — 
From the warble of the bird. 

No cloud had ever dimmed the sky, 

Nor broke the ocean's rest, 
But the daybeam slept in quietness 

On the mighty monarch's breast ; 
No tone of sorrow e'er had lent 

Its wailing to the air ; 
A holy peace was on the Earth — 

Sin had not entered there. 

What wert thou then ? A little spot 

Decked in its robe of green ; 
Beside the haughty mountain tops 

Thy beauty all unseen ; 
But now thou art our treasure-place, 

A bow is o'er thee spread, 
Set in the cloud of sorrowing hearts, 

To bind them to their dead. 



106 HOLLYWOOD, 

We bring our beautiful to thee ; 

The mother, at whose breast 
An infant flower had fallen asleep, 

Has laid it here to rest ; 
To thee we bring our aged ones, — 

Our statesmen in their pride, — 
And those, alas ! who in the flush 

Of youth and hope have died. 

Here sheltered by embattled walls, 

Lulled by the water's flow, 
Walls, iron-tongued, undying fame 

In history to know, 
Thousands of Southern soldiers rest, 

Heroes of song and story ; 
Who wove, in death for Freedom's life, 

The mantle of their glory. 

Oh ! hushed and sacred be the spot, 

Where oft at twilight grey, 
The stricken mourner bends her steps 

To weep her grief away ; 
Where oft the strong man's spirit bows 

O'er joys forever fled ; 
And stranger tears bedew the sod 

That marks the unknown dead. 

But hark ! whence comes that thrilling sound. 
That pealing trumpet blast ? 



A LETTER. 107 



And see th' Archangel high in air 
His dazzling splendors cast. 

At that dread summons myriads burst 
Their chains beneath the sod ; 

And thou once more left tenantless— 
They stand before their God. 



A LETTER. 

nPHIRTY-FIVE years— thirty-five years ! 
-■- Lights and shadows — smiles and tears ! 
Dark and bright colors skilfully wrought, 
Blending in harmony, action, and thought. 
Now to completion the pattern nears — 
Two lives in one, for all these years. 

Little I thought as I stood at your side 
Voung and gay-hearted, a happy bride, 
All the deep import of words that fell 
Solemnly, tenderly — ^yet it was well 
Fearless and trusting to go to my home. 
There to be sheltered these years to come. 

Youth, with its upspringing hope and faith, 
Carved out triumphs that mock at death ; 
Summer, perfecting them, passed away, 
Bearing the burden and heat of the day ; 



108 A LETTER. 



Autumn is waning, and now we come 
Joyful to garner our harvest home. 

Time must leave footprints in thirty-five years ; 
Joys spring alternate with sadness and tears. 
But "goodness and mercy" forsaking us never. 
Ourselves and our children — Lord, keep us for- 
ever, 
And while to the sunset the dial still nears, 
May Love mark the shadows for all coming years. 
y^^th Anniversary of Wedding-day, 
V. M. Institute, June 9, 1870. 



The " sunset " of life in its sadness has come ; 
For the shadows of death now rest on our home ; 
But Faith lifts the veil that conceals from our 

eyes 
The peace of the loved one at rest in the skies ; 
And thanks be to God, who hath knit us together, 
" Two lives in one " still MmX-^di forever. 

May 18, 1884. 












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